Aspis

Poisoned snake
writhing through
a grassland of suited legs
stunted growth
mere puppets with which to play.
Fangs bared
lightening speed
strike and flee
dastardly little chuckle
emerging from its cheek.
Villainous viper
insinuating itself
into party times
party lies
spreading dishonesty
mistruths
hoping against hope
to cause a great divide.
Coiled round
squeezing
choking
hoping that this will kill the enemy
remove the barrier
it will all become clear.
Enough is enough
no harboring this beast
cease
desist
surcease
with this lunacy.
Tales of old
warn of a two headed snake
who whispers sweet words to one
while striking to bring down another.
Stomp on it.
Pin it down.
One fell swoop
watch its head hit the ground.
November 18/18
Photo by eddie howell on Unsplash
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Finish the Story Nov #5

Finish the story is a fun creative way to bring bloggers together and creating a story. Created by Theresa at The Haunted Wordsmith  please be sure to go over and check out her writings.

Rules

  1. Copy the story as it appears when you receive it (and the rules please)
  2. Add somehow to the story in which ever style and length you choose
  3. Be sure to pingback or comment on the original post please.
  4. Tag only 1 person to continue the story
  5. Have fun!

What the Wind Blew In

Gusty Gulch was named, well, because it was in a gulch and it was always windy. You can’t go up there and expect to have a good hair day – ever. Every day would start out the same, with a light southern breeze, then pick up by lunch, and by dinner the winds would howl through what few trees there were. Most of the town’s trees blew away during the storm of ’18.

Lizzy sat at the window and watched as the evening wind brought life into her quiet street. First there were a few birds that decided it would be best to cling to the ground rather than try to fly in that mess. Then came the tumbleweeds that blew in off the plateau. She chuckled remembering the time they decided to have a tumbleweed convention at her school – the school was closed for three days while the Gusty Gulch Fire Department cleaned it up.

Suddenly, she squinted her eyes and pressed her nose against the window. It can’t be, she thought. “Nah. Is it?”

“Is it what, dear?” her mother asked from the kitchen where she was busy drying the supper dishes.

Lizzy gasped and covered her mouth as another one appeared…then another. “Mom! Come look at this quick! You’ll never believe what just blew in!”

Her mother set the pot down and walked toward Lizzy wiping her hands with the drying towel. “What is it — OH GOOD LORD! Marv! MARV! Come look at this!”

To Be Continued…..

Lizzy could hardly contain her excitement. Never had anyone survived the climb up and through the gulch. But coming along the street becoming larger and larger as he drew near, was a boy? But no boy could have survived the climb, the winds, the nothingness. Her eyes grew larger and suddenly unable to contain herself any longer, threw open the door and ran into the street.

Planting herself firmly in the middle of the stranger’s path, Lizzy set hands to hips and waited. As he sauntered along she took in his appearance. Tallish, slim build, brown hair that in places was a lighter shade. Closer he came, until he stood in front of her staring at her with luminescent green eyes. Her breath caught in her throat and Lizzy felt her face flush red.

“Hello,” she stammered. “I am Lizzy. How did you get here?”

“The ship dropped me at the precise location where the winds are a force lessened as it spreads itself out. How did you get here?”

Lizzy stared at him head cocked to the side as she contemplated the absurdity of his speech.

“I was born here. Where were you born?”

“You were born here? On this planet I mean?” incredulous the boy stared at her. “No one has ever been able to gain a foothold in the atmosphere but now that the sentient being is falling to sleep the winds have begun to lessen.”

Lizzy’s mouth dropped open. What was he talking about?

And here I am going to pass the baton to Rory over at A Guy Called Bloke and K9 Doodlepip.

 


Untitled Poem #7

Talk talk talk
circle around the truth
stories told
embellished
lies believed 
until they become a part of history.
 
Since time in memoriam
men have written
rewritten
retold
tales
changing them to make their wrongs
their ills
their evils
appear to be sane
intelligent
judicious.
Steamroll over anyone
who disagrees
argues
disputes the facts
nay
of men
who believe they are
saving a world
they themselves have destroyed.
Earth trembles
lave explodes
mountains fall at their feet.
Oceans are polluted
spreading disease
eradicating species
while searching for the almighty dollar.
A time will come
people will rise
overturn
rescind
the privileges given
to these obsolete dinosaurs
spouting
greed
industrilization
money money money.
As heathens of times passed
burned at the stake
heretics
who demanded more
better
services from those who were in charge
so too shall great men fall
while the world laughs at their fate.
November 17/18
Photo by Samuel Zeller on Unsplash

Fairy Tale

I do not understand.
You have changed me.
Changed my thoughts
my wants
my everything.
Pushing
pulling
encouraging
I have begun to dream
a dream that I never thought was meant for me.
You are no prince
I am definitely no princess.
Flawed
we flow together
melding of minds
emotions
understanding
at the basest level.
Not one of intellect
but
one based on…
souls calling to one another
bleeding
bare
laid their secrets.
Bodies fit together
made for each other
not a space between
as they lay
content
alive
in love.
When I was little
I had an idea of
fairy tale love.
As I grew 
I knew it was an illusion…
until 
I met you. 
Fairy Tales 
do exist for the broken.
November 16/18
Photo by Jackson Hendry on Unsplash

Scars

My story can be told
by the seams
scar tissue
wrapped around both wrists.
The first time
I could find no release
silent screams
tearing from a broken body.
It was easier to bleed
than give voice to the fear
the cause
the betrayal.
It became second nature
pain
alleviated by blood
dripping
scoring the floor beneath.
One day I will go to far.
What will they think
peering into this closet
a nest of rags
broken toys
a childhood long forgotten.
To find the blades I pilfered
some rusted through.
Each tells a tale
of pain
fear
abuse
eyes wide open
everyone else blinded
what does a girl do?
Not this time
my heart still beats on.
My anguish
grey mimosa
none shall see
the tears that I weep.
November 15/18

Massacre

I hate you.
Seriously hate you.
As I sit in my my car
weeping
screaming inside my head
for you to shut the fuck up!
I cannot take it
not much longer
why can I not be allowed
this happiness?
Why must you dig in
claws crooked
shredding
tearing
massacring
me?
Locked within these black walls
cavernous
lost
scared to move
tentative steps
hands stretched out
afraid of what is in front of me.
Hear the scrabble
tiny claws
skittering towards me
giggles
echo around me
nails on a chalkboard.
Surrounded
tiny imps
all wearing my face
pointing
ascending
digging beneath my skin
ripping at my heart
until
there is nothing left.
Just me
staring blankly at these four walls
entrapped in insanity.
November 14/18

Vile Voices

I think
no I know
that you do not really understand
what my anxiety does to me.
I do not need you to hold my hand
I do not need a night time of chatting
but I do need
a good morning
a good night
maybe just a simple smile
for when I hear nothing
my heart begins to crumble.
I realize
that I am strong
independent
able to carry on.
What most do not realize
is the voice that hisses
bitches
rips me apart
telling me that
for some reason
I am just not good enough.
I am sorry to be so needy
to need assurance
I just need to be told
all will be okay.
I trust you
I love you
I know that you will not abuse
yet… 
please understand
for so long
I was debased
I was shattered
when those who loved me
turned away.
You need to realize
I am not always strong.
Every once in a while
I need to be held
be told
that you love me indeed
as I love you.
All I am asking
is for your understanding
of the vile voices in my head.
November  13/18